


Trust

by Netrixie



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Feelings of Inadequacy, M/M, Mostly Fluff, Trust Issues, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 14:48:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8060674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Netrixie/pseuds/Netrixie
Summary: With Stiles, it's all about trust.





	

**Author's Note:**

> No beta, so any mistakes are mine. Also, apparently I wrote this last night, even though I don't remember doing so. That being said, I have no idea.
> 
> Come bother me on tumblr at coffeeofthelord :)

_ Is this really how the world works? _ Stiles thought absently, watching his hands. They trembled. Oh, it was faint but it was there, a slight shiver that had shocked him with its appearance.

His hands never shook.

He'd handled power that could wipe out small towns with barely a thought, his hands as still as stone. Battled packs far more massive than his with magics that tore wounds into the very face of the earth, and his hands had never once shaken. With hands as still and as cold as the grave Stiles had ripped the life from his enemies.

He'd healed as well, his hands steady as life giving light spilled out from them, as he mended the scars he'd created. Plants grew and flourished under his calm touch. Stiles was the rock his friends leaned on, the calm in any storm, his voice as steady as his hands as he took care of them.

Oh, he wasn't infallible, Stiles knew. He'd learned to take time for himself, to get his balance back, to settle down after the latest catastrophe. To let his inner stillness affect the outside.

So he never, ever shook.

It was a weakness, especially in a life like his, filled with vicious monsters and even more vicious allies. Stiles knew the steadiness of his hands was a warning. The calm, even pace of his heart was a death knell. A bell that tolled ‘You're nothing to me. You're beneath me’ with each beat.

It was about survival.

But now…. Stiles huffed a laugh, and smiled wryly.

“Are you alright?”

The question came from the man lying under him, and Stiles glanced up. Derek was sprawled across his bed, for all intents and purposes the picture of relaxation. But Stiles could see the strain around his eyes, his sudden fear, and he realized he'd been silent for too long.

“I'm fine,” he assured the werewolf quickly, and placed his hands on his own thighs. “Just…”

Stiles trailed off, not knowing exactly what to say.

Derek's lips twisted, and he sat up and leaned on his elbows. “Do you not… do you need to stop?” he asked quietly, “I'm sorry if I moved too fast for you.”

“No!” Stiles burst out, and scowled at himself.  _ Don't yell, it's not his fault _ he thought firmly, and clenched his hands into fists where they rested. “No,” he said again, far more calmly, and smiled at the doubt - filled look the alpha was directing at him. “I'm just in awe.”

_ Awe, _ Stiles thought.  _ Yes, I'm in awe _ . He snorted at the look that briefly passed over Derek's face and smiled.

“Yes,” he mused, smoothing the wrinkles out of his pants. “I am in awe of you. That you're letting me come so close.” It had hit Stiles suddenly, that that's what it was. That Derek- who had been at his side for  _ years _ \- who had seen everything he'd done, all the good and the bad and the downright  _ ugly _ , was letting him do this. Was waiting for his touch.

Awe was too gentle a word.

Surprise, shock, fear, terror, yes  _ awe,  _ astonishment, joy… all those, and then some, and Stiles shied away from the word that would encompass all the others and more.

Derek settled back down, curiosity and trust dancing with disbelief on his features. “Ok. But take your time. Don't do anything you're not comfortable with.”

Stiles envisioned spreading his hands across Derek's sculpted stomach, and his heart skipped in his chest. He ignored Derek's raised eyebrow and disbelieving face, fingers twitching of their own accord. Stiles  _ wanted _ , and it felt… dangerous. Perfect. Terrifying.

“You make my hands shake.”

He admitted it lowly, like it was a shameful secret, and looked away. Derek's stillness became utter, and Stiles’ palms itched to touch him everywhere. It was a concession on his part, an admittance of vulnerability, something Stiles never did. It was far too ingrained in his being to be easy to say. And Derek knew this.

“I'm sorry…” The low response came a little while after Stiles’ statement, and Derek's voice was uncertain.

“Don't be! It's not your fault.” Stiles gestured at Derek's prone form, and laughed at himself. “You're gorgeous and my hands are shaking because I'm allowed to touch you. It's  _ not _ a  _ bad _ thing.” The last sentence was spoken mostly to himself, and he huffed again in frustration. “This is stupid.” He slumped his shoulders and raised his hand to cover his face. “And isn't fair to you.”

“Why isn't it fair?” Derek asked, and when Stiles looked up sharply he didn't see anything other than genuine curiosity in the alpha's face.

“I'm wasting your time.” He explained slowly, “And I'm not even wasting it for a good reason.”

Derek hummed under his breath, then placed one hand very gently on Stiles knee, and sat up. “How long have we known each other?” The wolf asked, and Stiles did some quick mental math.

“Uh, seven years.”

“And in those years, have you ever seen me do anything I didn't want to? In my personal life,” Derek added quickly as Stiles mouth opened.

“No,” Stiles admitted, and Derek nodded.

“And how many times have I lied to you?”

That, Stiles knew without the math. “Never.”

“Then trust me when I say that as long as you're here, and as long as you want me here, you're not wasting my time. Ever.”

Stiles swallowed against the sudden dryness of his mouth and Derek leaned back against the pillow, eyes closed, apparently willing to wait for as long as Stiles needed.

Stiles stared.

_ He trusts you, _ he thought,  _ why can't you trust yourself? _

The realization struck Stiles like lightning. Trust.

He trusted Derek every day- with his life, his safety, his food, his friends, his father, everything. Trust went back and forth between them like air, easy, free. The trust of an Alpha and his Emissary, of a mage and his wolf, of two friends who've risked their lives for each other countless times.

So why should trusting Derek with this be any different? Stiles stared. Obviously the wolf had already thought of all this… he was completely relaxed beneath a man who's murdered werewolves with nothing other than his will before.

Stiles loosened his hand, and reached out with a finger and gently drew a line down Derek's hand, still resting on his knee. The werewolf didn't react, and Stiles glanced up, halfway sure the other man had fallen asleep by now. But ruby eyes glinted at him, and the sight unlocked the last vestige of uncertainty.

“I don't need to be invulnerable right now,” Stiles realized, watched gleaming eyes track the movement of his hand as it began to explore, and smiled slightly. “Because you'll take care of me.” He said it with certainty even as his still trembling fingers walked up Derek's wrist, tracing the veins.

Derek growled low and deep in his throat, and his hand tightened on Stiles’ knee.

“Always.”


End file.
